Of Time
by innercornerhighlight
Summary: "Don't worry, I have my eye on someone else, actually, a really pretty girl that likes sub-par books about the French Revolution," Ian smirked.


The familiar scent of coffee hit Amy Cahill's nostrils as the soft glow of the lamps and the whir of the coffee machines welcomed her into her favorite café. She snuck a glance at her watch, which read 6 pm exactly, and breathed a sigh of relief, proceeding to order her regular: a chai latte with extra whipped cream.

As she organized her books in alphabetical order on her favorite little table, which faced a window that offered her a gorgeous view of the New England sunset, her eyes flickered over to her watch once more. 6:07. Perfect. That gave her two hours to study. Then she could catch the 8:15 bus to Nellie's for dinner.

She cracked open her book, (a fascinating primary source from the French Revolution,) and devoured every word, making marks and notes and things as she went along. She paused every once in a while to peek at her wrist, making sure she was on time.

She continued to demolish her book before she realized her drink was empty and she wanted another. She frowned. That would take away at least ten minutes of her time to study. Her wistful gaze travelled to her mug. But she really liked chai. She looked at her watch again. 6:49. The sunset.

She lifted her head to drink in the beautiful phenomenon that never seemed to get old, that seemed to make time stop, despite the fact that it happened daily. The peaches and tangerines of the sky were mottled with gold and yellow, framing the sun which appeared to sink into leaves tinted cinnamon as a result of the change in season. It was so breathtaking. It didn't matter that she saw every day. The familiarity of it made it all the more perfect.

Suddenly, a sleek dark vehicle entered her line of vision, and she frowned as the car, a heavily customized Audi, insinuated itself between a set of trees, and a tall figure gracefully exited, slamming the door and walking down the path.

She scowled, turning back to her work in an effort to forget the stupid car that ruined the tranquility her sunset offered.

She looked at her watch. 6:56. She looked down at her empty mug. Spices clung to the bottom while whipped cream swept the rim. She allowed a sigh to escape her lips, and she made her way to the counter to purchase another.

The line had gotten longer since she'd gotten here, and there were four or five people waiting in front of her already. She didn't mind waiting for things. She'd heard of patience being a virtue and all that. By the time she was second in line, it was 7:02.

"An espresso, please, and don't mess it up," a haughty voice trilled in an English accent more familiar to Amy than any sunset. No. Way.

"Ian?" Amy asked uncertainly, lightly brushing his back with her fingertips.

She felt him stiffen under her touch and hesitate, before turning his head, his handsome features composed. The dark skin, the glowing Amber eyes, the aquiline nose, the perfect mouth. It was him.

"Amy," he acknowledged coolly, eyebrows raised in surprise as his eyes ran up and down her face. "Fancy seeing you here," he said.

"I go to school here," Amy replied with folded arms. "Fancy seeing _you_ here."

"Right, Harvard, and the redundant history courses you could probably teach," Ian dismissed with a wave of his hand, lips quirking into a teasing smile.

Amy rolled her eyes, ignoring the jab. "What are you doing here? Last I heard you were in England throwing the London Stock Exchange into a frenzy."

"Yes, well, I can do that quite easily from three thousand miles away," he chuckled, "I was just-"

Ian's clipped words were drowned out by the sound of the barista clearing her throat, shooting them a cutting glare.

"Oh, right, my apologies," Ian said turning back to the counter. "What'll you have?"

"Oh, no, you don't have to-"

"Stop it, Amy, what'll you have?"

"No, you don't-"

"She always gets a chai with whipped cream," the barista piped up impatiently.

Amy scowled at her.

"Alright, then, an espresso, and a chai, please-"

"With whipped cream!" Amy interjected.

Ian smiled. "Yes. With whipped cream," he frowned. "The chai, not the espresso. I don't care for whipped cream, it upsets my-"

"That'll be eight twenty five," the barista interrupted once more.

Ian paid, and they received their drinks from the horribly rude barista.

"Shall we sit?" Ian asked, looking at his watch before appraising the café with a look that indicated that he was only minimally disgusted. Pretty good for Ian.

"Uh, sure," Amy answered, taking a look at her own watch. 7:18. She had an hour to kill. Even though she'd already had plans to kill it with a paper on the religious causes of the French Revolution.

She led Ian to her table, where he inspected his seat carefully before sitting down, sweeping his hands over the creases in his well-tailored trousers.

He read the words of her book upside down, before turning the page. "Fascinating," he remarked, nodding approvingly at the tome. "Though I could've found you something much richer in a Lucian Stronghold."

"My book is doing its job quite well, thank you very much," she quipped, playfully jutting her chin out, causing a smile to crawl onto Ian's face.

"So, how are you, anyway?" Ian asked, cocking his head to the side, his eyes gleaming inquisitively.

"Good," She answered, closing her book dejectedly. The storming of the Bastille would have to wait. "I have a lot to do these days, but everything's going really well, and I'm really happy."

Ian regarded her silently. "I'm happy for you," he said quietly.

Amy parted her lips to return his inquiries with her own, but she was too late. "How's Dan?" Ian took a sip of his espresso, and made a disgusted face that was so attractive that it could only have been made by Ian Kabra.

"He's okay, just finishing up high school. He's coming to Boston next weekend to look at some colleges, I needed to take matters into my own hand after he made one too many jokes about taking a gap year to become a ninja," Amy joked, the real question she wanted to ask burning a hole in her tongue.

 _Are you still with her?_

"Typical Daniel," he chuckled absent-mindedly. "I've been planning to open an office here in Boston, as well."

"An office?" Amy asked almost stupidly, eyes wide.

"For the art dealership," Ian said slowly, one brow raised. "There are a great many number of prospects for me here."

"For your dealership?" Amy sipped her Chai, relishing the taste.

"And for me," Ian smirked, revealing a trace of the old Ian. The one that had gone into the hunt for the 39 clues with a mother and a sister and an ego to rival that of Narcissus.

Amy wondered what that meant.

"How's Cara?" She blurted, regretting the question immediately as Ian's mouth set itself into a grim line at the utterance of her name.

"I wouldn't know," he shrugged, finishing the shot of espresso. "I haven't spoken to her since May."

May. It had been three months since May. What happened in May? Had they broken up in May?

"Oh. Did you guys..." Amy trailed off, meeting Ian's knowing gaze, noticing the hint of a smile on his lips.

"Yes, we broke up, no regrets there," Ian declared, clearing his throat, taking a sip of his coffee.

"Well, either way, I'm sorry to hear that," a blush crawled along the apples of Amy's cheeks, and she cursed the fairness of her complexion for the umpteenth time. Why did she have to be a pale person with a penchant for blushing?

"Don't worry, I have my eye on someone else, actually, a really pretty girl that likes sub-par books about the French Revolution," Ian smirked, cocking his head to the side playfully, and Amy's face was so warm she was considering leasing it as an alternative source of energy.

"Oh, really?" She tucked a lock of cinnamon hair behind her ear. Ian's fingertips grazed her own across the table, sparks shooting up her arm at his touch.

"Yes, and I know she's very busy, but I was wondering if she would have dinner with me tonight?" Ian's golden eyes were locked onto hers, his pupils visibly dilating, and was that a blush spreading up his cheeks?

Amy bit back the biggest smile her face could physically manage. _Play it cool, Amy._ She glanced at her watch, but the numbers blurred and suddenly didn't seem to hold as much weight. She could see Nellie tomorrow, she'd write her paper later. Amy had time.

"I think she would love to."

* * *

Hello my loves just another little one shot I found on my computer from a while ago! I hope you all like it and leave me a review it makes me want to post more stuff! Happy new year, and I hope everyone had a great NYE!


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